


dead star burning

by andnowforyaya



Series: yaya's winter writing blast 2015 [11]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - Space, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, References to Drugs, References to Suicide, Space Pirates, pre-bangdae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andnowforyaya/pseuds/andnowforyaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d faced certain death before and come out alive. He could do it again, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	dead star burning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allpowerfullou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allpowerfullou/gifts).



> i hope i do your prompt justice .~. please don't hate me
> 
> it was a long-ish prompt so i am not including the whole text here, but the gist of it was space prison and pirates <3

Prison, Yongguk thought as he paced the tiny cell of his room -- five steps in any direction -- was _cold_. Of course, he’d been in prison before, but not in _this_ prison. The planet that other outlaws and black-market folk referred to jokingly as the Graveyard, because this was where they sent the death sentences, criminals with so many points stacked against them that The Republic exchanged these points for a termination date. The prison itself was housed on a bare, forsaken icicle of a planet at the outer reaches of this galaxy’s sun, and the only traffic it got was from official prison transport vehicles and craft.

Yongguk fucked up. He squat on his haunches in his cell, his wrists locked close together in a mechanical restraint that required both a code and a key to unlock. He had been caught on a routine drug run, and when he was brought before the Tribunal his list of accrued charges had been so long -- he’d had so many warrants out for him in so many galaxies -- that he’d nearly fallen asleep listening to the clerk recite them. Then he’d been sentenced to the Graveyard. That certainly woke him up.

He’d protested the ruling, but that only got him sedated. And when he woke up he was here, at the end of the galaxy, facing certain death.

Still, that didn’t bring him down too much. He’d faced certain death before and come out alive. He could do it again, right?

The front panel of his cell opened at that moment, revealing three guards all dressed in The Republic’s striking black uniform and full helmets, hiding any distinguishing features. All of them had stunners in one hand. “The Executioner will see you, now,” the guard in the middle spoke.

The guard didn’t wait for Yongguk to respond. Yongguk was wrenched up from the floor and handled none-too-gently out onto the platform, where he could see his cell was in a row of hundreds of them. He looked up and saw row upon row of more cells, and the same was below. One wrong step off the platform was simply a sheer drop into the murky black pit of what must be the engine of the prison.

“I’m supposed to have three days,” Yongguk said, digging his heels into the ground. “And a last meal! This is a violation of my rights!”

“You have no rights. Not here,” the guard holding his elbow said. Another guard closed in on his other side, and together they dragged Yongguk across the platform, the third guard leading the way.

.

They turned away from the platform and into a hall that seemed to stretch beyond the visible horizon. Yongguk realized he had no idea how large this prison was, but he counted the steps he was taking and noted the vents and ladders and other hallways interacting with this main one as he passed them, in case he would need the information later. They stopped in front of an innocuous-looking door.

The guard in front slid his identification card over the security pad, and the door hissed open. “Prisoner BYG0331, sir,” he announced, and Yongguk was unceremoniously shoved into the room.

“Leave us,” someone within the room said.

“BYG0331 isn’t yet properly restrained--”

“I said _leave us_.”

Yongguk felt himself being pulled forward, wrists first, and he had to jog to keep up, pulled by some unseen force to the center of the room where the restraint on his wrists clicked against its partner, a short podium that protruded from the ground, and stuck fast, locking Yongguk’s against it. The door hissed shut again, cutting off light from the hallway, and Yongguk’s eyes were slow to adjust to the murky half-light of the room.

His ears rang and his heart pounded. He pulled against the restraints but it was no use; he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Don’t be scared,” the other man in the room said. He had a smooth, melodic voice, like he’d swallowed a spoonful of honey. The lights began to glow brighter overhead, and finally Yongguk could see a figure seated behind a metal desk, also in black Republic uniform, but his helmet was on the table.

“You’re the Executioner?” Yongguk asked in disbelief. The boy -- and Yongguk could see now that he was young, possibly younger than Yongguk himself, a boy on the cusp of manhood -- had his chin in his hands, elbows resting on the table. The boy nodded. He had a shock of white hair against skin that reminded Yongguk of desert sands, and one brown eye. The other was blue, so pale that it seemed to reflect light. “But you’re--”

“So young?” he asked, blinking slowly. There was something off about him. Yongguk couldn’t stop staring at the one pale blue eye. “Don’t let my appearance fool you. I’ve killed plenty. Besides, we’re not here to talk about _me_ ; I want to talk about _you._ ” His voice was at once crisp and velvety, seeming to echo in the room. He had an air about him that was something Yongguk had only ever felt in the presence of royalty.

“What about me?” Yongguk asked. He felt sweat forming at his temples, despite the cold.

“Have you given any thought to how you want to die?” The Executioner blinked at him again. He asked the question like he’d asked it hundreds of times before.

This took Yongguk aback that he actually drew up taller. “Are you just asking me, or do I get -- a choice?”

“If it is within reason,” the boy said, “I can usually arrange for a prisoner to die the way they wish. It’s one last thing. My gift to them.” He smiled but there was no warmth behind it. Empty, Yongguk, thought. This boy was empty. For some reason, this made him unbearably sad. He went with it.

“That’s nice of you,” he complimented. “Giving them back their humanity in a way, huh?”

“Humanity,” the boy repeated. “Yes, that’s it. Something like that.”

“Is this a common practice by The Republic?” The question was out before Yongguk could take it back; he’d been too curious. The smile dropped from the boy’s face, and something dark flared up behind his eyes. Not empty, then. Yongguk hastily added, “I just mean, it’s -- admirable. Honorable.”

The Executioner said, “No.”

Silence hovered over them like a pall. Yongguk nervously swallowed, searching the boy’s face for any sign of sympathy, something he could use, but now it was blank again. He had a pretty, doll-like face, with full lips and a strong nose. Yongguk wondered how he ended up here. “What would you recommend?” Yongguk finally asked, “in the area of death and all that.”

Now, the Executioner looked confused. “I _wouldn’t_ recommend it,” he said.

Yongguk didn’t bite back the urge to smile, so he smiled, letting it stretch over his lips. “Was that a joke?”

This time the boy furrowed his brows, the expression on his face making him look young and uncertain. Yongguk wondered if he ever had the opportunity to share a smile with anyone out here.

The Executioner shook his head and leaned back into his seat, waving his hand dismissively, like a haughty prince would to a servant. “I will ask for you again tomorrow. Please give my question some thought,” he said.

.

Yongguk did not give the Executioner’s question any thought. Instead, he thought about the boy himself. He couldn’t get his face out of his mind; his eyes, especially. Were they both brown, once upon a time? The boy seemed human, but it was always possible he was a hybrid of some sort. Maybe he’d gotten his striking features from the side of his biology that wasn’t human.

Yongguk lay on his bed, a hinged shelf that came down from the wall lined with a thin pad, and wondered why the boy felt familiar.

He should be thinking about escape, but there was wormy feeling in his gut about the boy, and in most cases following his gut had served him well. He closed his eyes and saw the boy’s face again, wondering why it was bothering him. He tried to imagine the boy with both eyes electric blue, glowing in the dark, but the image conjured up memories of time spent on the outer planets of the Zethro Galaxy, where the people, Yongguk had found, were equal parts beautiful and poisonous. Then, he tried to imagine the boy with two brown eyes; they would be warm and dark like honey if there were sun. His hair, too, if it were dark--

Yongguk sat up again, incredulous at the image his mind supplied. The boy’s affect, his smooth voice and airy gestures...

Could the Executioner be the missing -- now pronounced dead -- Prince of the Republic? The Prince’s image had flooded every screen in the galaxy for days after he disappeared. He had been pronounced dead a couple of months ago with a mass-hologrammed funeral procession befitting royalty.

Dead, Yongguk thought. Unless he was here. Why in Orion’s name would he be here, of all places? _Alive?_ There was a high chance that Yongguk was just completely wrong about this, but--

He had a thing for faces. He was just good with them. Unless the Prince had a twin no one knew about, this boy was him.

Yongguk thought and thought. The Prince -- Jung Daehyun, he recalled -- had changed his appearance here. Could it be possible that no one suspected? Was he hiding here, and what was he hiding from? If Yongguk were right about this, he had some leverage now.

He lay back down, cautiously optimistic. He’d see the Prince tomorrow and blackmail his way out of the Graveyard.

.

“Have you given any thought to how you want to die?” the Executioner asked Yongguk, sounding bored. He was playing with the cuff of his uniform at his wrist, worrying the fabric back and forth.

“Depends,” Yongguk said confidently. “How long have you been hiding here, Prince Daehyun?”

The boy blinked. Then he leaned forward onto his table in interest. “How long did it take for you to figure out?”

“Just after I was returned to my cell,” Yongguk responded. He pressed his lips together, wondering why Daehyun wasn’t behaving the way he’d predicted.

Daehyun said, “Prisoners usually don’t realize until right before I terminate them. I don’t know if I’m impressed, but you’ve realized faster than most.” He pursed his lips. “Do you want a medal?”

“No,” Yongguk said. “I want not to die.”

“You were wrong about me hiding here,” Daehyun continued as though Yongguk hadn’t spoken. “I’m not hiding. The King knows perfectly well where I am.”

“Then why are you dead, everywhere else?”

Daehyun frowned. “It is what he wanted,” he said, as though that were the most obvious thing. “The King is the Republic. The Republic is Law. That’s how it works.” He spat the words like they left a sour taste in his mouth.

“You’re not fond of The Republic?” Yongguk pressed. From the glare Daehyun shot his way, he could sense he was treading in dangerous waters, testing his luck. Daehyun’s blue eye seemed to pierce straight through him. Then his gaze shifted to the ceiling and back down to Yongguk, and Yongguk knew what he meant. They were being watched.

“The Republic brings order to the universe,” Daehyun said quietly.

“Not to mine,” Yongguk said. “Not when I’m on my ship, my baby. Mato flies under my orders and governance. There’s no Republic there; just me, and my crew, and my ship.”

“And your illegal drug trade,” Daehyun supplied.

Yongguk shrugged as best he could in his bindings. “You have to make money somehow.”

“Where would you go,” Daehyun asked, “if you could go anywhere?”

“As far from the Republic as I can,” Yongguk said. He was responding to the inquiry in Daehyun’s eyes, the curiosity and -- dare he think it? -- the hope. “I’ve got a lot of friends across the galaxies. Lots of hidey-holes.”

Daehyun didn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze never leaving Yongguk’s, both eyes dark in thought. “I’d recommend death by fire,” he said. “It can be slow and agonizing, but someone will hear you scream.”

.

Just like that, Yongguk was dismissed. Daehyun had not said they would meet again, and now he was worried he might actually die by fire. What an awful way to go. His mental map of the place wasn’t sufficient enough yet for a planned escape, so if he did try to get out, he’d have to wing it.

Yongguk, in general, wasn’t a fan of winging it. He was a methodical and purposeful person, with many backup plans for his Plan A, and had other people in his crew who were pretty good at winging it. Himchan, for instance. The one thing Yongguk could bank on _if_ he got out of here in one piece was Himchan had probably brought Mato and the rest of the crew as close to the Graveyard as he could without being detected, already. They were good like that, looking out for each other. It helped that all the drug trade routes were in Yongguk’s head and not fully anywhere else, so if he really did die the rest of the crew would be out of business for a while.

The guards would be bringing a nutrition packet by in a couple of hours. That was the only time the cell doors opened and shut, and that would be when Yongguk would have to make his escape. He sat on his bed shelf and shook his wrists, both still locked in the restraint. He realized for the first time how grimy and disgusting he felt; he hadn’t showered since his arrest and probably smelled like the back end of an ulgar-ulgar. Maybe, he thought, he could knock out the guards with his smell.

He contemplated how he might overpower the guards with the wrist restraint. It was quite heavy, really, and covered in knobs and dull spikes that would surely hurt if they came in forceful contact with skin. The next guard who came by to deliver his nutrition packet would meet with it. He’d disarm him somehow and get him to unlock his wrists, and then he’d take the main hall and figure out a way into the vents. From there, the best bet off-planet was up. It was always up. Up top would be where transport comes and goes. He’d have to steal a ship.

Well, Yongguk thought, if he couldn’t do it, he’d be dead anyway. So what was the harm in trying?

He got up from the bedshelf and positioned himself by the cell door, off the side. When it opened, he’d be able to launch himself at the person behind it, whoever they were.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The door opened, and a guard stepped through.

Yongguk was on him in an instant. He threw his restrained wrists over the guard’s shoulders and twisted them around until he was pulling the guard’s back flush against his front, the restraint digging into the guard’s neck. The door hissed shut again. “Get these off me,” Yongguk growled. “Or I kill you.”

“An escape attempt?” the guard wheezed in a familiar voice. “I should have figured.”

Yongguk let his grip loosen, and the guard inhaled noisily. “Your Highness?”

“Daehyun is fine,” Daehyun said behind his helmet. “Not so loud. I have a proposition for you.”

“Make it fast,” Yongguk said through gritted teeth.

“I’ll help you get off planet,” Daehyun said, “if you take me with you.”

“ _What_?” He tightened his grip again, and Daehyun pulled at the restraint ineffectively, choking. “Why should I believe you’ll actually help me?”

“I’m not here by choice.” Yongguk let him breathe, just a little, and Daehyun gulped in air. “I have been sentenced here as well, same as you. But instead of being killed, I have to do the killing. I can’t stay here -- I’m _losing myself_.”

“If you’re so hung up about it, why don’t you just end things, huh?”

“I’ve _tried_ ,” Daehyun cried. Yongguk let him go like he’d been struck, and Daehyun fell to his knees, gasping for air. He pulled the helmet off, his white hair matted to his forehead with sweat. “I am a prisoner here with _no way out_ ,” Daehyun said miserably. “Except maybe through you.”

.

Yongguk followed Daehyun through the hallway, nearly tripping on Daehyun’s heels trying to keep close. Daehyun was wearing his helmet again, and when he was in full Republic uniform, you could hardly tell he was once Prince of the whole damned thing.

That’s what they were betting on.

“I can get us to the hangar,” he’d said back in the cell. “But _you_ have to fly us out.”

“Not a problem. I can fly anything.”

Yongguk couldn’t believe he’d been handed such a perfect escape on a silver platter. If they didn’t make it, at least he’d still have the _Prince_ in his hands. Despite what he’d learned of the officially-dead Prince, he had to be worth something, right?

Daehyun had marched Yongguk out of his cell, trained a stunner on him, and led the way.

.

The hangar was a flurry of activity. A new shipment of prisoners was coming in, as well as multiple ships of supplies and crew. There seemed to be a changeover happening. Yongguk surveyed his surroundings, seeing a couple of ships that he could probably easily commandeer and fly out of here, but Daehyun continued to march him past the rows of cargo ships that were being unloaded to where smaller ships were hovering, uniformed people flowing to and from them.

“Shift change,” Daehyun explained, and it was such a mundane statement that Yongguk laughed. He didn’t think there’d be something like a shift change here, but of course there was; he felt like a little boy who just learned that his teacher did not, in fact, live in the school. “We’ll keep going until someone stops us. Then I’ll say you’re special transport. Going to another prison. You’ll not say anything.”

“Are people ever transferred to other prisons here?” Yongguk asked suspiciously.

“No,” Daehyun said. “But people will believe anything.”

It worked for three interactions, and then it didn’t. By then, they were steps away from the nearest ship on stand-by, empty of workers. It hovered, waiting for someone to steer her into the emptiness of space.

The guard who stopped them held out a hand when they tried to pass. “There are no transfers,” he said slowly, confused, his brain trying to work it out. He was scratching his helmet, such a human expression, when he seemed to recognize the words that had come out of his mouth, and then his weapon was trained on them, and it wasn’t a stun gun.

Daehyun moved quickly, stunning the guard, who crumpled to the ground. He shoved Yongguk forward and they began to run to the ship, their activity quickly gaining attention. A laser shot past Yongguk’s shoulder, marring the outside of the ship they were sprinting toward.

“Go!” Daehyun shouted, and Yongguk pushed his legs to pump faster, to burn faster. He dove into the ship as a laser sizzled over his left bicep, immediately searing skin. Daehyun boarded the ship right after him, and with a loud clang he shut the door. “Go, go, go!”

The ship was simple in its layout: pilot’s cockpit in front and a few rows of seating in back. Yongguk ran to the cockpit and threw himself into the seat. “Get this thing off me!” he shouted at Daehyun, who scrambled to follow him. Through the front windows Yongguk could see the whole hangar moving, swarming toward them. He booted up the engine system quickly as it was already on stand-by and placed his hands on navigation just as the wrist restraints fell away.

Then he pulled up.

Daehyun shouted but Yongguk couldn’t pay attention. The ship responded sensitively to his navigation, but it was old and clunky compared to his Mato. “Is there a defense system on this thing?” he yelled.

“Yes,” Daehyun said.

“Well, get to it!”

They weren’t a good team, at first. It was clear Daehyun had never had any real combat experience and Yongguk couldn’t babysit him, but he _could_ outmaneuver the Graveyard’s guns. On a hunch, Yongguk flipped on the ship’s communications, honing in on a wavelength he was familiar with.

“Mato,” he said. “This is your Captain. I’m back from the dead. Answer.”

He nose-dived the ship briefly to escape taking on damage, then pulled up again. They’d made it out of the hangar, but the Graveyard was sending out fighters now, he saw. These were smaller, more compact ships that only had one purpose, seek and destroy. Why didn’t they steal one of _those_ ships? Somewhere behind, Daehyun screamed.

“Mato,” he repeated into the transceiver, “this is your Captain. I’m back from the dead and ready for pick-up. Answer.”

He waited for the static on the other end to turn into words, into Himchan.

The ship lurched as a heavy explosion sounded, followed by a mechanic groan. “One of the engines is on fire,” Daehyun shouted. “I thought you said you could _fly_!”

“Shut up, Your Highness!” Yongguk grit his teeth, trying again. “Mato, this is your Captain--!”

“Captain, this is Tats.” Yongguk let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding at hearing Himchan’s gravelly voice. “We have your position. We’re coming to get you, now.”

.

As soon as they were aboard Mato, the Graveyard far behind them, Daehyun threw off his helmet and retched onto Himchan’s shoes.

“Great,” Himchan said, wrinkling his nose, “and who might you be?”

Junhong had his gun trained on the stranger, which meant Youngjae and Jongup were likely in charge of navigating the ship.

“Tats, don’t you recognize the dead prince of the Republic?” Yongguk stretched, his arms sore, his wrists gloriously free. He felt light and wonderful and didn’t even care about the glare Daehyun sent his way for revealing his secret so soon. Besides, Daehyun had never said Yongguk couldn’t share who he was.

Yongguk wanted out of his prison uniform. He wanted a shower. He wanted to walk around his ship and kiss all her panels. He strode toward his quarters.

“Where are you going?” Himchan called out.

“Shower,” Yongguk said.

“No thanks from you? We save your life and you just go -- take a shower? And what about this kid? Prince or not, what do you want us to do with him?” From Daehyun’s indignant squawk, Yongguk guessed Himchan had prodded him with the safe end of his gun.

“I don’t know,” Yongguk mused aloud. He paused in his steps, the ship hissing around him. “Lock him up in cargo, for now.” He looked back.

Daehyun’s eyes widened. Then color flooded his cheeks, two high spots of angry red. “You said -- I _got you out_ \-- you bastard--”

“The deal was,” Yongguk recalled, “You get me out, and I take you with me. That was it. Now I’m taking you with me...as _my_ prisoner.”

He didn’t stay to listen to Daehyun’s response. He needed a shower to wash all the filth from him.

.

It felt good to be clean, in fresh clothes and fresh socks for his boots. It felt good to eat a bowl of Himchan’s hearty mystery stew. It felt good to sit and enjoy his life and not have to worry about anyone carrying out his death sentence the next day. It did not feel good to have Himchan staring at him like he was a stranger, like he was trying to figure him out.

“So we’re taking prisoners, now?” Himchan asked. He was sitting across from Yongguk in his quarters, his wonderful, cramped quarters, scowl on his face.

“We’ve taken prisoners before,” Yongguk mumbled, spooning more stew into his mouth.

“Not like this -- kid,” Himchan said. “We’ve taken prisoners who were bad people. Who did bad things. Grown ass bad adults.”

“That kid was the Executioner.” Yongguk pointed his spoon at Himchan. “He’s killed more people than you, me, and Jongup combined. Even accidentally.”

Himchan shook his head, pursing his lips. “He was scared to go into the cargo room, Bbang. He’s _scared of the dark_.”

“He’s playing you,” Yongguk said, but a feeling started forming in his gut again. This time, he tried to ignore it. There were more pressing issues at hand, like how he was going to stay hidden from the Republic, now. Certainly, he wasn’t the only fugitive at large, and he wasn’t the most dangerous, but that didn’t mean the Republic wouldn’t have people already on his trail. “We need to make our way to Alpha-B-6. Gather up supplies. Lay low. Tell Youngjae.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Himchan said, rolling his eyes. He stood and regarded Yongguk. “You gonna feed the kid?”

.

Yongguk held his gun in one hand and a tin of stew in the other. The trip down to the cargo hold was a short one, and he wondered why he was making it at all. They should just get rid of Daehyun as soon as possible, because someone like him was bound to attract attention, and coming down here with a hearty(ish) meal was _not_ something Yongguk should be prioritizing.

Still, here he was.

Cargo was sectioned off by an airlock door, and he opened it with a scan of his finger. That’s when he heard the clanging.

_Clang! Clang! Clang!_ Rhythmic. A pause. _Clang! Clang! Clang!_ The sound echoed in the small, cavern-like space. Yongguk quickly crossed to where Daehyun was seated, stripped of the long black overcoat of the Republic and now just in black underclothes, sleeves pulled down over his wrists and down to his ankles. He was handcuffed to a pipe. The noise was from Daehyun pulling the cuffs tight against the metal pipe, over and over again. His wrists were raw and bleeding where the cuffs had dug into them.

“Stop that,” Yongguk demanded, putting the tin of stew down on the floor next to them and putting his gun back into his holster, alarmed. He kneeled and reached for Daehyun’s wrists, only the next thing he knew he was seeing stars and tears were leaping into his eyes. Daehyun had thrown his forehead into Yongguk’s nose. “What the _hell?_ ”

“Uncuff me!” Daehyun screamed.

“What the hell did you do to your wrists--”

“Uncuff me or shoot me,” Daehyun said. “Or leave the gun and go.”

“That’s a lot of options,” Yongguk said dryly.

Daehyun growled, “I won’t be your prisoner,” but Yongguk thought it reminded him of his puppy back when he was boy on Earth. Tigger, that was his name.

“Except you will,” Yongguk said. “And you are.”

“Out of one prison and into another. I pegged you wrong.” He shook his head in disappointment, his shoulders slumping. “Please let me go; I won’t fetch you anything.”

“Maybe not as the Prince,” Yongguk said. “But with your face? You could fetch me plenty. Maybe even enough for fuel to where we’re headed.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Why would I tell you?”

They stared at each other. Daehyun’s blue eye pierced him like needle. What Yongguk had taken as emptiness the first time they’d held each other’s gazes he now recognized as innocence. Yongguk shivered. Himchan was right. He was just a boy. He reached forward to uncuff Daehyun, who gaped at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Uncuffing you so I can take you to the showers. You stink.” Daehyun sniffed, offended as the handcuffs were coming off. Yongguk was careful not to touch the open wounds on his wrists. “Then I’m going to think about whether or not I want you on my crew, Your Highness,” he said.

.

**Author's Note:**

> can anyone tell what movie i watched recently?


End file.
